


"I'm You, But Better"

by Etched_in_Fire



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Drinking, Escape, Gen, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etched_in_Fire/pseuds/Etched_in_Fire
Summary: A classic tale of "be careful what you wish for because you just might get it"-- N'thaliah Xhin wavers between wanting to confront her past and wanting to escape from it.  Her negligence lands her in hot water.





	1. The Wine

Wine was not often her drink of choice, but she made that particular, rainy night an exception.  She swayed slightly in her chair upon hitting the halfway mark of the bottle, feeling flushed in the cheeks.  The Seeker lumbered to the mirror, her feet occasionally getting mixed up enough to almost topple her.  Her hair was red but it was fading quickly— her earthy brown roots were showing and the blonde from her highlights was starting to fade into the rest of the mess.  She had trimmed her hair slightly over the course of the last few months, but mostly, it was still a wild, short mess.  The Seeker thought perhaps now was not a good time to continue trimming it up.

            “Thaliah… Thaliah… Ohhhh, you’ve done it now,” she whispered to herself, winking comically at her reflection, who was kind enough to wink back.  “Gonna be hungover for daaaaays at this rate.”

She grunted and made her way back towards the chair.  She plopped down and took a swig from her glass—a rather ungraceful way to drink the red beverage, but she really did not give a damn about social graces, especially when she was alone.  The Seeker gave a sniff, dabbed her quill into the ink, and began to write… although it was more like gibberish than actual words.  Writing was hard enough when one was unable to spell half of the language they were writing in.  The drunkenness was not aiding her in the slightest. 

            Her hands grasped at the bottle and she nearly spilled it, cursing softly under her breath all the while.  Thaliah of the N tribe kicked her boots off and kicked them over to where her conjurer’s crook sat, propped up against the wall.  She had not used it for much except as a walking stick in the Shroud, when she so desired to walk among nature.  Thaliah often, however, kept within the inn rooms and other such homey places—out of paranoia and her distaste for social situations. 

            She had begun to take lessons at the Conjurer’s Guild in Gridania, which was far enough from her free company’s home.  The letter she was attempting to pen would have addressed why she was living so far away, but thus far, her letter consisted of blobs that could scarcely be considered words.  The drunk Thaliah frowned at the parchment and cast it into the hearth without a second thought. 

            “Welp…” she sighed to herself, pouring another glass. “I’m gonna hate myself in the morning, so might as well enjoy tonight…”

            The curtains blew in and her bright green irises flitted over to them.  At first, she saw nothing through the window—save for the darkness of night and the rain that gently caressed the glass.  It was a crackle of lightning that exposed the Xaela, her silhouette framed perfectly in the window.  N’thaliah scooted back from her chair—sobering up only slightly at the eerie image.  The Seeker’s eyes blinked rapidly and she rose to her feet, squinting.  A second bolt of lightning confirmed that she was not hallucinating and the Au Ra kicked open the window without a moment’s hesitation.

            “Whoaaaa there,” Thaliah remarked as glass sprayed the wooden floor.  The Xaela pursed her lips and merely glared at the miqo’te with a blank expression. Thaliah held up a hand to stop the invader, “You can’t just kick in people’s windows!”

            “But already I did,” the Xaela replied, her voice youthful despite how old her eyes seemed. 

            “True…” Thaliah commented, “So who are you?”

            “I have a name,” the Xaela said pridefully, her sanguine eyes glimmering like dark rubies.  She stepped through the window, her boots crunching the shattered glass underfoot without a single worry.  Her hair was dark, touched at the tips with a vivid red—clearly dyed that way.  Her skin was dark—a stark contrast to her aflame irises.  The paint on her lips was a neutral tone, but glistened.  She did not smile and her left hand rested on the hilt of a curved sword.

“Well, let’s hear it,” Thaliah retorted, wine bottle in hand.  Through the haze of alcohol, she was trying to ascertain how to get to her staff, but her poor life choices were proving a tad more powerful than her logic.  Her alcoholic haze was unusually powerful given what she had drank, she considered—or perhaps she had consumed more than she had realized?  Something was not right…

“You do not deserve to know it,” the Xaela replied simply. Her blade manifested in hand, glinting a gorgeous silver-white, even in the low lighting. “N’thaliah Xhin—given name: Kasha-- she who was once the Shemhazai—I have been tasked to bring you in.  The Ultima demands you.”

“Of course… tonight of all nights…” the Seeker grumbled.  Her head was hurting already—an early symptom of a hangover?  She thought it was a tad quick and took a step forward.  The word flashed neon colors for a moment—blinding her.  She closed her eyes and shook her head fervently, ridding herself of the strange vision.

 “I was wondering when one of you would find me.”  Thaliah continued, realizing she was not going to be sober any time soon—a fact that she was beginning to regret. 

“You did not bother to hide yourself well,” the Xaela commented. “Taking the name you were given as well as the name of your late father.”

The statement stung and the Seeker narrowed her eyes at the Xaela. “Who are you?” She repeated the question, even though their banter had all but solved the gist of what Thaliah needed to know.  Her hand adjusted her grip on the wine bottle—holding it like a club, ready for a swing at the callous woman.

“I am you,” the Xaela replied coldly. “But _better_.”

Thaliah was not prepared for the swordswoman’s lunge.  Her reflexes delayed, she took the hilt of the blade to the chest, which knocked the air from her lungs.  The Seeker staggered backwards, the bottle dropping to the ground in a crash.  The Xaela grabbed her by the collar, sneering into her face—no mercy in her eyes.  A few disoriented blinks later and she felt the Xaela stab her in the leg.  Thaliah gave a cry in reply, her blood splashing the wood.  The Seeker grabbed at the woman’s face and missed—another symptom of the alcohol.

“In case you are wondering,” the Xaela said to her. “Your wine was spiked.  I bought out the merchant you purchased it from.  You’ll be catatonic in minutes.  Any last words?”

“Fuck you,” the Seeker reached back to sling a fist into the Xaela’s face, but her knees buckled before she could manage it.   The edges of her vision were being devoured slowly by darkness.  She struggled to fight it off, but she realized she was failing quickly.  One of her hands grabbed at where she had been stabbed, trying hard to stop the blood from flowing.  She could feel it cascading slowly, her world blurring.  The Xaela loomed over her, cold eyes never flinching.  Lip never curling.  It was a robotic face, dulled to emotion.

N’thaliah hoped it would not be the last sight she ever saw.


	2. The Debt

When she came to, she felt the sway of the boat beneath her.  It was a cradle, soft and gentle.  She was lulled back to slumber for a few more minutes before she realized that she was not in a bed.  Where she was… was unknown to her.  The interior was made of wood and she was being kept within a prison somewhere in the ship’s massive hull.  Thaliah looked around before her eyes rested on the Xaela woman.  Her brain tried to retrieve her last memories of the woman, but failed somehow.  There was familiarity there, but she could not ascertain if the woman was a friend or foe.  Though, judging from her position… Thaliah assumed foe.

“W-what am I doing here?” the Seeker asked the Xaela, who rolled her shoulders in a shrug. 

“You are my prisoner.  You have been for days.”

“ _Days_?”

Her stomach growled, as if on cue.  The au ra’s lip curled into a smirk and she handed her a few slices of bread. “You have forgotten.  I suppose the dosage was… more than sufficient.”  Her smirk faded slightly with thought and consideration. “Perhaps I over did it.”

“Over did… what?” Thaliah looked skeptically at the bread, but decided it was unlikely the woman was going to poison her.  The Xaela had gone through the effort of keeping her alive for this long, after all.  “I can’t remember anything…”

“You are in a stupor.  It will fade with time,” the Xaela answered.  Her tone was cold, devoid of emotion.  Thaliah felt as though she was speaking to a mammet.

“Well… thanks but no thanks,” the Seeker retorted, stuffing her mouth full of bread.

“Do you remember your name?” the Xaela inquired with raised brows. “Or have I reaped you of that as well?”

“N’thaliah Xhin,” the miqo’te replied between swallows.  A few crumbs fell from her meal onto the ground and the au ra looked at her disdainfully. Thaliah sighed and devoured the final piece of breath a bit too quickly—her stomach churned angrily. “I remember… some things.  Just… feels like it hurts to try.”

            It came back to her in fragments.  She saw images of the inn room—scattered glass upon the floor.  She remembered the Xaela striking her—stabbing her.  The Seeker’s eyes trailed down to her bandaged leg, well cared for and not infected, despite the odds.  A bit of movement, however, and she could feel the wound sting.  Confusion riddled her features and she looked to the woman for answers. When she recalled the reason that the au ra had come for her, she gritted her teeth with fear and stress, pulling her legs up to her chest to huddle in the corner.

            “Why did you heal my leg?” she asked the Xaela.

            “I need you alive, not dead,” the enigmatic woman replied.

            “Why stab me to begin with?” Thaliah demanded.

            “Continuous doses of the drug I administered to you will kill you.  I cannot have that.  Thus I awoke you.  And you are injured now, so you cannot flee.”  The tone of her voice was almost giddy, as though she was proud of her idea.  Thaliah wrinkled her nose at the raven-haired woman.

            “Great,” Thaliah scowled.  As the Xaela handed her a cup of water, she accepted it graciously, but did not bother to alter her frown for her victorious opponent.  The Seeker began to drink the water a bit slower than she had consumed the bread for fear of her stomach revolting.  The doors at the end of the hallway opened and a large, blue-green Seawolf entered, his hair braided and his nose large and hooked.  She did not recognize him but his eyes lingered onto her, a shimmer within them wondering if he knew her from somewhere. 

            “Lady Chinua,” the Seawolf said with a slight bow.  “We are approaching the coast of La Noscea.  Are we to make a stop there for supplies?”

            “No.  Keep sailing on.  The Ultima is expecting us,” Chinua replied.

            Ultima.  Through the mental haze, Thaliah’s mind conjured an image.  Familiar amber eyes, burning like gil coins in sunlight. Ebony hair that ran like a waterfall across smooth stone.  Skin like porcelain, so fragile that the softest touch could break it… but her bones had been iron.  Forged in flame, tempered by the harshness of the world.  Her laugh had been bells.  Wedding bells.  Thaliah’s heart ached suddenly and she remembered Asami with a mixture of fear and longing.  The rest of the Order followed—even poor Thorfinn, whose lifeless body had cradled hers when she had fallen to her supposed demise.

A lump formed in her throat and she searched the woman named Chinua, fighting to recall her familiarity. It hit her like a ton of bricks when she finally did remember her—a frightful servant girl that often scrubbed Oktai’s lab equipment.  There was definitely a story to be told here if she had been promoted from maid to a bounty hunter.  Unfortunately, the Seeker was not entirely sure that she had enough time to be entertained by the tale.  She _had_ to begin planning her escape.

            “Where are you taking me?” Thaliah asked in a low voice.

            “To my leader,” the Xaela answered evenly. “And to your execution.”

            There was another pause and the Seeker’s brow furrowed. “What… is your rank?”

            “Shemhazai,” Chinua said coldly, but there was a glint of smug satisfaction in her orange-rimmed irises.

            The Seeker’s eyes flashed wide with realization.  As her eyes crawled over the wooden panels of the boat’s interior, she wondered how far they were at sea.  La Noscea—wasn’t that what the Sea Wolf had said??  The name sounded familiar… she could not place it, however.  Had she been there before?  The Seeker was inclined to believe so.  Not that it mattered—her top priority was to flee the ship as soon as she could.   

            “Execution… what did she tell you?” N’thaliah asked bitterly, dragging her vivid irises to the Xaela.  “Did she tell you I was a slaver?  That I sold the kids to Garlemald?  Did she tell you I murdered Ruru?”

            “She told me your crimes,” Chinua said, “Conspiracy against the Order.  You attempted to forge documents that would paint her a criminal.  The Order of the Twin Adder has severed all ties with us due to this unfortunate misunderstanding.” 

            “She’s brainwashed you.  She brainwashed us all.  Wake up!” Thaliah yelled. “She’s _insane_.”

            “The world is madness,” came the whisper of a reply and the Xaela walked away from the rickety old cell, leaving the Seeker with the braided Sea wolf.  He looked at her with woeful, turquoise eyes, shaking his head.  A few moments later, he trundled off after his superior, though his mutterings indicated he was not at all pleased with their current situation.  Thaliah stared long and hard after him, studying his silhouette until he, too, vanished.

            When she was left in the solitude of her own thoughts, she began to act.  Moving her arms distracted her from the anxiety bubbling in her chest.  Her dainty fingers seized the bars and she tested them with a quick jostle.  They were firmly set and she frowned, scratching at her chin.  Next, she reached through the bars, touching the lock with an open-palm.  As her fingers probed around it, she could feel the keyhole.  It was likely kept in a vault in the captain’s quarters… unlikely to venture over to the hull’s prison.  Thaliah frowned.

            She rested back down onto the ground, permitting herself to succumb to the tsunami of thoughts in her mind.  Resting her forehead in her hands, the Seeker fought through her fears, sifting the unhelpful, panic-ridden thoughts out for ideas.  She had been in plenty of binds before, but this was new—even when they had done less-than-legal things within the Order, she had never been put into a cell.  Thaliah’s eyes closed as she brainstormed—waves of emotion overtaking her.

            Of course Chinua had found her the night she had let her guard down.  Of course Chinua had bought off the merchant.  It all made sense—it was the perfect trap.  And the drug?  An excellent idea.  Thaliah tried to not admit she was impressed but she was.  The girl, despite her youth, was a superb successor.  Thaliah loathed her all the more for it.

            Night began to sink through the grate above the hold.  Moonlight filtered through, casting its pale light onto the hallway.  She hobbled up and leaned against the bars, glancing up at the full moon as it glared down at her like a giant eye amid the darkness.  Was it judging her too?  The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.  If the tales of her tribe were correct, the Sunmother was sleeping now.  Her daughter, the moon, was reigning, her light vast enough to report all doings of the mortal realm to the high goddess.  Thaliah wondered if the moon would tell Shazafa of her imprisonment.  The Seeker silently begged for divine intervention before settling back down.

When she closed her eyes, she saw the highlands of Coerthas—before the fall of Dalamud, in its verdant glory.  She saw the fields of aldgoats, their flock of karakul, and the frost-tipped mountains in the distance.  N’laani was with her, blonde hair braided back and her eyes shining with mirth.  Her father was there too, a curled smirk about his shaggy features.  And her mother was next to him, smiling her quiet smile.  N’thaliah saw her tribe as she remembered them, before the darkness had come.  Before the Calamity.  Before N’zahrn.

            She thought about how she had failed her tribe.  Her actions had possibly caused some of them to die or suffer—a thought that weighed heavily on her.  Thorfinn had died because of her actions.  And there were so many she had inadvertently enslaved, killed, or harmed… all for the sake of self-preservation and love.  It left a terrible taste in her mouth and Thaliah mused over how her death might make up for some of it. 

Yet it seemed like an ill-fitting redemption.  She could not help the ones she had harmed if she were dead, as hard as it seemed to carry on.  Part of her wanted to say she was content with waiting for the boat to arrive to gods-know-where, but there was a stirring in her heart.  She opened her eyes and touched the metallic door handle.

Without rhyme or reason, the door swung open. 

Mouth slightly agape, she looked from the door to freedom to the sky, wondering if the Sunmother had perhaps not forgotten her astray child.  She blinked, then looked at the handle again.  Was the door broken?  Was this fate?  Was this divinity telling her that she had one more chance to make things right?  Perhaps she would not drink herself away out of depression this time…

Thaliah smirked and took her first step towards liberation.  She began down the hall with nimble, soft steps, her eyes sweeping to the left and right to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows for her.  Her conjurer’s crook rested on a table at the end of the hallway.  She grabbed it and held it in front of her with both hands, firmly readying herself to bludgeon whomever decided to come at her first.  Anything was better than no weapon, even if she had been trained in martial arts.  Hand-to-hand combat wasn’t going to save her against a blade, not without getting nicked at least. 

She pushed open the door with some amount of caution, peering through the crevice before proceeding.  Under the open moonlight, the deck was silent.  Stepping into the night air was surreal.  Clearly something was wrong—there were no guards posted.  She looked to the steering and saw only a large-framed silhouette, his blue-green eyes glaring down at her with much scrutiny.  The miqo’te took a surprised step back, her ears flitting back.

“Ye noticed it, did you?”

It was the roe from before, his face riddled with scars and his braids waving the sea breeze.  The smell of salt was in the air, but it did not outweigh how unusual this encounter was.  Thaliah held her conjurer’s crook at the ready, glaring up at the Sea Wolf.  He released the wheel of the ship, holding his massive hands up. 

“Do ye remember me yet?” was all the roegadyn asked her and Thaliah struggled to place where she had seen him before. “It’s been awhile.”

“No,” Thaliah admitted after a moment of thought and the roegadyn gave a shrug.

“Yer still under the affects of the drug.  Ye’ll be muddled for a while,” he replied.  “Name’s Bremigrym Lagonwolksyn.  Ye saved me from being executed ‘bout two years ago.”

It sounded familiar, but everything was sounding familiar—distant bells, chiming of adventures hazed out by the drug she had consumed.  Thaliah worked to remember and could only conjure the image of a public execution somewhere in Ul’dah.  She saw the gallows but the faces were blurred.  It hurt to think about and she rubbed her temple with her free hand, massaging it gently.

“I was in yer squadron when the damn Bloodspear killed Rururiko,” Bremigrym said to her. “But I knew why ye did it.  The backstabbin’, I mean.”  His turquoise eyes darkened. “I might’ve done the same if I were in yer shoes.”

“So what did you do with the guards?” Thaliah asked him, side-eyeing the empty deck with the flick of her tail.

“They’re a-snoozing, the new Shemhazai too.  They’ll be a-waken an hour o’ so,” Bremigrym shrugged. “Ye can be long gone fro’ here by then, I think.”

“You’re… releasing me?” Thaliah blinked.

“Ye thought it was luck tha’ yer door was unlocked?” The Sea Wolf gave a haughty laugh. “I don’ ferget life debts, lass.  Backstabbin’ as this may be, I’d be dead if it weren’t fer ye.” 

“Well… thank you!” Thaliah remarked.

“Aye but it’s the last time I’ll be helpin’ ye outta yer binds,” He began down the steps to face her.  Bremigrym’s axe came into hand, but he rested it casually on his shoulder. “And it’ll be the last time ye’ll be beatin’ me.  Give it a good shot wit’ tha’ ol’ stick o’ yers.”

            “Do you think she’s really going to buy that?” Thaliah snorted softly. “You should come with me.  Two sets of arms are better than one for paddling a skiff.”

            “Naw,” the Sea Wolf shook his head. “I need the gil fer my kiddos back home.  I don’ agree wit’ all the madness the Ultima believes in, but this is me home.  I jus’ got a soft spot fer the underdog.  An’ I make up my debts.”

            “I wish I could remember saving you,” Thaliah admitted as she approached him, cautious in case he decided to change his mind. “But thanks for doing this. We’ll call it even.”

            “Yeah, yeah, jus’ don’ go doin’ somethin’ stupid and gettin’ caught again,” Bremigrym grinned at her.  “Hit me, lass.”

            She swung the cane hard at the roegadyn.  It thudded against his burly form, bruising his chin.  He winced but merely staggered back, spitting out, “Yer gonna have ta try harder ‘an that!”

            He regretted his next words.  The next swing broke the cane into shards, spraying wood chunks onto the deck.  A few splinters stood out from his shoulder and he grinned at her, despite the pain in his turquoise eyes. “There ye go, lass.  Tha’s… tha’s the spirit…!”

            “I’m sorry,” Thaliah confessed, ears back.

            “Don’ be, I told ye to do this.”

            “Want me to beat you up some more?”

            “Heh… I think this may suffice.  Oh an’ before ye go,” he pulled out her knife from his belt, complete with sheath.

He made to hand it to her, but drew it suddenly.  With the sound of bared metal still ringing in her ears, Thaliah drew back, fur on her tail puffing out with fear.  Bremigrym shrugged at her and cut his other arm open—casually, without breaking eye contact.  Thaliah winced for him, drawing her gaze away.

“Fer effect,” Bremigrym said, cradling the bloodied forearm. “Now go.  Go an’ take your skiff.  I gave ye food and water to last a day.  Paddle ‘til ye reach someplace safe and then don’ stop runnin’.”

“I won’t forget you,” Thaliah said to him, unable to look at his blood as it splattered onto the ground. “Not this time, at least.” She gave him a half-smile, then made for the skiff in question. 

She released it from the rest of the boat, looking back at the grand ship as she began to paddle along the current that the waves were taking her.  The smell of the sea air gave life to her limbs.  Thaliah paddled onward, the ship eventually disappearing in the night.  Her mind strayed to Bremigrym and she hoped he would be well.  The punishment would be death if they found that he had released her from the prison… she prayed that his wounds were convincing enough.  His actions had bought her more time—time that could not be wasted.  She would have to disappear if she wanted to live.

But perhaps life was not about living.  Not counted by the amounts of breaths one took, at least.  Perhaps there was something more to her existence than just surviving.  She could run from Eorzea and be safe—at least for some time.  She could run to Thavnair.  To Doma.  To even the damned Empire.  But what sort of life would that be?

The Sunmother had not brought Bremigrym into her life to simply flee, and the miqo’te used her copious amount of free time to think and reflect. 

“Where was that place that Asami took me that one time…” she whispered, thinking of their time on the sea together.  There was a port town in Thanalan… Thaliah struggled to recall its name.  She struggled until the sun began to appear on the horizon, casting wondrous hues of soft pink, orange, and crimson across the pitch-black sky.

“Vesper,” she formed the words on her lips.  It had a nice ring to it. 


End file.
